I can’t watch the television or listen to the radio right now; the news of the shootings at VT is everywhere and I find it troubling and awfully, terribly sad.
So I will tell you about the turkeys. A flock of wild turkeys make their home on this little peninsula. They travel about from place to place, making their way up and down the roads as if they owned them. On occassion, a male will spread his tail feathers in a showy gesture, part “look at me!” and part “back off!”
This land, and the lake around the peninsula, and most of the valley to the south of us, is part of the reservation belonging to the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes (CSKT), so it’s an area of mixed spirituality–mostly Catholicism flavored with elements from traditional Native American beliefs.
The turkey, to many native peoples, is the Give-Away Eagle. Turkey is meant to call forth a deep and abiding recognition of the sacrifices of both the self, and of others. Turkey reminds us of our gifts–material and spiritual.
Today, the little flock of wild turkeys have found our yard. They mill and peck in the greening grass in front of the garden. As I watch them, I’m reminded of cycles, and circles. Today, I give my grief away. Today, I am thankful for life.